


A STOVE is what dreams are made of

by laughingpineapple



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:36:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/pseuds/laughingpineapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura's case came and went, taking away all glory and glamour in its wake. Audrey remains. (Gordon stops by, one day, on classified business)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A STOVE is what dreams are made of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kouredios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouredios/gifts).



> YES SAME to your request. So, so much! In trying to work it into a small treat, I thought of putting her through a random meeting with a positive figure, something which could start getting her back on track after the disaster that was her late characterization... and I initially thought of Margaret, but then: FBI dad. Consider.

The town has gone back to sleep and doesn't dream. The first fresh air Audrey can taste in months is dull and sanitized, recycled breath of boring people filling boring streets. Magic left Twin Peaks on tip-toes while her eyes were closed: she was told that the investigation wrapped up, that Jack had called once and then radio silence, that Special Agent Dale Cooper had skipped town, no, left town, and didn't that slip-up look like a thrilling opening to tale of danger and excitement, but for what. For what.

Maybe this means she's all grown up now. All at once. It doesn't feel right, because she can't imagine her father going through any of this, let alone Donna Hayward who (as anyone can confirm) was born a middle-aged cat lady minus the cats, but maybe all those dreadful adults all used to dance alone in the middle of the RR once, with their eyes closed and a heart bursting with mysterious romance. The girl who did that doesn't fit in Audrey's body anymore and it's got nothing to do with the explosion, so it must be growing up.

Come to think of it, it was the hard work, the sucking up, the heartbreak, make that double, the trying and trying and getting nowhere, the seeing people for what they are and being unable to get away. Definitely sounds like growing up. The worst development of them all: the world settled into making sense and that sense was flat and dull.

 

There is a sharp-dressed stranger in the hall.

Audrey may be lost in depressing thoughts, but by God she is not so out of it that she would miss a sharp-dressed stranger in the hall – she taps on her employee's arm, asking the girl to wheel her back inside and aim straight for that one lone guest.

 

The man has got to be some ten years older than Cooper was, judging by his fine mane of slicked-back graying hair and the stout impression he gives out, like a bulldog, which upon further consideration appears to be unfounded. His square jaw is contracted in a funny grimace, he's lost in thoughts as well, it seems, and look at that, his earbuds' wires are connected to some gizmo Audrey couldn't give a hoot about, but right above it she can see a flag pin and the same golden one her agent used to wear.

A- _ha_.

 

“Sir?”, she chirps, and it falls a little flat, a little dissonant, as if she were still tuning her classic demure troublemaker act. He doesn't turn around.

“Nice to meet you. I am Audrey Horne”, she tries again, shooing her attendant and maneuvering the wheelchair herself so that she can get a closer look at him.

That seems to do the trick. “YOU MUST BE AUDREY HORNE”, he says, nodding to himself, after staring at her just enough for it to get uncomfortable. “WE'VE GOT TAPES ON YOU.”

“Tapes?”

“I HAVEN'T REQUESTED DRAPES, MISS HORNE. IN FACT, I WILL NOT BE SPENDING THE NIGHT IN THIS FINE ESTABLISHMENT SO I HAVE NO NEED FOR THEM, BUT THANKS FOR ASKING.”

Audrey blinks. “I said tapes. You said tapes?”

“DON'T MUCH CARE FOR THE RED ONES.”

Audrey blinks again. Is this a challenge? She can do challenges.

“Do you know Special Agent Dale Cooper?” She can do challenges and nobody's ever faulted her for an exceedingly oblique approach to conversations, specifically.

The man looks straight through her again and maybe that bulldog impression comes from his deep-set frown rather than his frame. He seems gentle, when you get past the shouting.

“I SEE. I SHALL TRY THE ROAST IF I STAY FOR DINNER.”

“Mister, now there's no way you could've misheard it like that. If you want to play, play, but you've got to put more effort into it.”

“AND THE ZUCCHINIS! YOU ARE EVER SO HELPFUL, MISS HORNE.”

“Now you're doing it on purpose!”

Ah, he's smiling. Guilty and enjoying it, the rascal! It looks a little like Cooper's smile, fixed and distant yet concerned. On his face, she'd go as far as to call it a fatherly smile, if only the word didn't ring like an insult to her ears.

“HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A DOUBLE?”, he eventually offers. “THAT IS, A MAN WHO IS THE SAME AS ANOTHER MAN, BUT ISN'T. A DOPPELGÄNGER, THEY CALL 'EM IN GERMANY.”

“I can't say I have?”

“GOOD FOR YOU!”

“Why, what's wrong with doubles?”

“THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH COUPLES, PER SE – THAT'S LATIN, BY THE WAY. NOW, THE PEOPLE IN THEM, I WOULD TRUST THEM AS FAR AS I CAN THROW THEM.”

“No need for that, they do tend to throw themselves on the nearest plane all on their own.”

“AIN'T THAT THE TRUTH!”

Audrey clicks her tongue and leans forward, resting her chin on her crossed hands. “Why”, she says, drawing out her words, “what's up with sleuths?”

“YOU ARE A FAST LEARNER, BUT THERE'S NOTHING UP WITH SLEUTHS, ESPECIALLY NOT WITH FEDERALLY EMPLOYED ONES.”

“That sounds like something someone who knows a federally employed sleuth in trouble would say, my good sir.”

“A VIVID IMAGINATION IS PARAMOUNT TO A HEALTHY YOUTH. AND FAR BEYOND THAT AGE, REGARDLESS OF WHAT HIGH SCHOOL'S EVER HAD TO SAY ABOUT IT.”

“Look, I've got my life, all I want to know is that he's fine, nobody seems to know anything-”

 

A receptionist holding the receiver in her hands waves to the man until she gets his attention, then runs two fingers across her nose.

“I'M AFRAID THAT WOULD BE WORK CATCHING UP WITH ME. MARK MY WORDS, IT HAS BEEN A PLEASURE.”

He picks up his suitcase and takes his leave with a somewhat personal take on a military salute. Looks fancy, at any rate.

“TAKE CARE, YOUNG LADY. NAME'S GORDON COLE, SEND WORD IF THERE'S TROUBLE STIRRING. BUT TAKE MY WORD FOR IT, STAY AWAY FROM ROSES AND YOU'LL BE FINE. FINE AS A TULIP, IN FACT.”

Audrey reciprocates with her best conspiratorial grin, starlight twinkling in her eyes.

So she didn't get her answers – she'll step up her game next time. But it turns out the world's still weird and that is fine with her.


End file.
